


That Cocky F*%!ing Smile

by fuzzballsheltiepants



Series: A Mewment Like This [2]
Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: A Whole Lot of Lawyer Jokes, Fanfiction Cockyweek, First Date, Law Student!Andrew, M/M, Rating May Change, References to Backstory, but is it really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-21
Updated: 2018-05-21
Packaged: 2019-05-09 18:35:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14721417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuzzballsheltiepants/pseuds/fuzzballsheltiepants
Summary: A follow up to Name Games, in which Neil and Andrew meet up for coffee.  A series of lawyer jokes ensue and Andrew speculates about Neil's overly-involved coworkers.





	That Cocky F*%!ing Smile

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to @tntwme for the beta! Any remaining mistakes are all my own. This is going to turn into a proper series, because this version of these characters is really talking to me now.

_I am fucking ridiculous_ , Andrew thought, glaring at the pile of clothes on the bed.  
  
He might have actually spoken aloud, judging by the amused look Sir gave him before jumping up to nest in the rejected shirts.  Great.  All he needed was white cat hair all over his clothes to complete the look.  He really ought to buy stock in lint rollers.  Not that Neil Josten would likely care about any of this, really, judging by the fact that he dressed like a kid wearing his father’s clothes.    
  
How the cocky little shit had managed to get that card in his pocket still baffled him.  Why was an even bigger mystery.  It wasn’t that Andrew was insecure, more that he was a realist.  None of which made it any less ridiculous that he was trying on shirts before going to get fucking coffee with someone he had met an hour ago.  
  
Eventually settling on something that wasn’t too obvious nor too covered in cat hair, Andrew reached the coffee shop a few minutes early and sat on the bench outside for a cigarette.  He was just about down to the filter when Neil approached, wearing overlarge sweats and looking flushed and slightly out of breath.  Andrew suddenly felt a little breathless himself.  _I am absolutely fucking ridiculous_.  
  
“Did you run here?” Andrew queried when Neil stopped in front of him, seeming to inhale the smoke with an almost religious expression on his face.    
  
“Um, yes?”  Neil seemed surprised by the question.  “I only live a few blocks away.”  
  
“Do you own a car?”  It was uncommonly hard to keep his face blank; he let his fingers twitch instead.  
  
Neil rolled his eyes.  “Yes, you saw me with it.”  
  
“Ah, well,” Andrew said, “I figured you might have borrowed it.  Or stolen it.”  
  
Neil dropped onto the bench a hairsbreadth from him, seeming unfazed by their proximity.  “I didn’t steal that car.”  
  
“That one.”  Andrew didn’t think it was his imagination that the flush on Neil’s neck deepened.  He stood before he could unintentionally chase the man off.  Neil followed him into the cafe, tugging his hood on over his head despite the sweat still evident on his face.  Andrew glared at him when he ordered a fruit smoothie; Neil looked incredulous at Andrew’s triple chocolate mocha frappuccino.    
  
“Is that coffee or dessert?” he asked as they found an empty table near the window.  Andrew just gave him a flat look, and Neil grinned.  They sat in silence for a few moments, sipping their drinks, while Andrew tried to ignore the unfamiliar twist in his stomach that got stronger with every glimpse of glacial blue eyes.    
  
“So, uh, what do you do?” Neil asked.  
  
“Really?  That’s your opening salvo?” Andrew shook his head in mock sadness.  “I expected so much better from a pickpocket who defends feline gender nonconformity.”  
  
Neil’s face was somewhat hidden by his hood but it appeared he had gone pink again.  “My…coworkers told me that was a normal question to start a conversation.”  
  
Well, that was definitely _not_ a normal second sentence in a conversation.  Andrew arched an eyebrow at him.  “Your coworkers are boring little fucks, aren’t they.”  
  
“No.  Yes?  I don’t know, they find the things I say ‘unsettling’ and ‘assholey’.  Not that that’s even really a word, but that’s what Jean called it.”  He shrugged.  “I mean, he’s fluent in three languages, you’d think he would’ve been able to find something more creative but whatever.”  
  
Andrew found himself staring at Neil’s mouth as he was talking.  When the fool reached for his drink Andrew dragged his eyes upwards; he did not need to be watching Neil sucking on something in that precise moment.  “How would you prefer to start a conversation?”  
  
“I don’t know, I guess I’d want to ask why your cat chews on bones.  Isn’t that more of a dog thing?”  
  
“You have seen my cat, yes?”  Neil nodded, and Andrew rapped his knuckles on the table.  “Then you may understand that he is the type of creature to pinch shit out of the trash, including, evidently, a chicken carcass this morning.”  
  
“What about you?”  
  
“Are you asking if I steal food out of the trash can?  Now I know why your coworkers think they need to give you tips.”  
  
Neil huffed a laugh as he shook his head.  “No, I was wondering how you would start a conversation.”  
  
Andrew leaned back in his chair and took a too-long pull at his frappuccino, trying not to grimace at the brain freeze that resulted.  “Why did you slip that card in my pocket?”  
  
“Oh.”  He blinked at that and looked down at the table, his fingers playing with the wrapper from his straw.  “I guess I enjoyed our run-in at the vet.  People keep telling me I should make friends, so.”  
  
Friends.  Figured.  “So you put your pocket-picking skills to use.”  
  
“It worked, didn’t it?” Neil asked, that cocky grin returning.  “It got your attention.”  
  
Andrew snorted at that bit of ludicrousness.  “Are your polyglot coworkers also petty criminals?”  
  
“Not exactly.”  Neil laughed.  “I work at a bank, doing interpreting and translation with Jean.  The rest of them are bankers.”  
  
“So, criminals, just not of the petty type.”  
  
Neil hummed in response and poked at his drink with the straw, sealing the end with his finger and lifting it up before releasing it and watching the liquid pour back in.  He never seemed to still his movements, a sharp contrast to the waiting room at the clinic where he had appeared to be doing his best to turn into the furniture.  Something about him didn’t quite add up, but Andrew had always enjoyed human calculus.  Then Neil’s eyes darted up to his and Andrew was caught.  He recognized that look too well.  _Fuck_.  
  
“I’m going to law school,” he found himself volunteering.  Anything to push that bleakness off that face.  “To answer the question your friends so boringly suggested.”  
  
It worked.  “You’re kidding.”  Andrew shook his head.  “You didn’t seem like the ambulance chaser type.”  
  
“I’m flattered you have such a high opinion of me.  And of my future profession.”  
  
“Well, everybody hates lawyers, right?”  There was a hint of teasing in his tone again.  
  
“Except lawyers.”  
  
That laugh again, that bright sound.  _I am so, so fucked_.  Neil studied him with a small smile playing on his lips.  “What’s the difference between a lawyer and a vulture?” he asked.  
  
“Frequent flyer miles,” Andrew deadpanned.    
  
The smile grew.  “I’m still undecided.  If I saw a lawyer and an IRS agent drowning, would I get lunch or read the paper?”  
  
Andrew tsked and shook his head, adding in a level voice, “It’s a real shame that ninety-nine percent of lawyers give the whole profession a bad name.”  
  
“I think that’s giving the remaining one percent too much credit.”  Neil kept playing with his empty cup as he studied Andrew.  “Seriously, why go into law?”  
  
“The system is set up to screw over the underprivileged to benefit corporations and rich people.”  
  
“And you wanted to get in on that.”  Neil sounded playful but his expression was not.  
  
“Naturally,” Andrew said.  There was no point in getting into everything he wanted to do, the fact that he wasn’t going to graduate for a couple of months but had already mapped out his track into child advocacy.  That would take too much to explain.  He debated pointing out that Neil couldn’t talk, given that he was working for a bank large enough to require two interpreters, but didn’t want to cause that hopelessness to creep back into his eyes.  “What do you do when you’re not interpreting and translating and whatever the fuck else you do at work?”  
  
Evidently that still wasn’t the right question, judging by the brief flicker that crossed Neil’s face.  “I play with my cat.”  
  
“You’ve had her for a month.”  
  
Neil shrugged.  “I’m studying Tagalog right now,” he said.    
  
“So, what, you spend all of your time learning how to say shit in other languages?”  
  
“I can say ‘shit’ in sixteen languages,” Neil answered.  “It’s the other words I’m working on.”  
  
“Ha, ha.”  
  
Andrew’s phone chimed and he glanced at it.  Fucking Nicky.    
  
_U better not be late for dinner i’m making enchiladas_    
  
According to the clock on the phone he still had an hour.  Neil cocked his head at him.  “Problem?”  
  
“No, just my idiot cousin.  I agreed to have dinner with him and his husband and have been regretting it ever since.”  
  
“I should go anyway,” Neil said, standing up and looking around for a trash can.    
  
“Busy night learning another language?” Andrew asked.  
  
Neil made a face and Andrew had to smother the desire to kiss the frown off of him.  “Nah, I’m supposed to meet up with a couple of my coworkers.  They want to do trivia night at some bar.  I don’t know when they’ll ever learn that I suck at trivia.”  Neil’s coworkers seemed to be oddly invested in him.  Andrew wondered how much of it was a result of his perfect bone structure and lean runner’s body, and how much of it overcompensation for the scars on his hands and face and no doubt elsewhere.  
  
Once outside in the parking lot, Neil flipped his hood back and tilted his head so the light rain played on his face.    
  
“You know, most people have the hoods up when outside in the rain and down when under a roof,” Andrew said.  
  
Neil angled so he was looking at Andrew.  “I get tired of people staring at these,” he said, gesturing at the unusual scars that stood starkly on his cheeks.  “And I don’t mind a little rain.”  
  
“I doubt they’re looking at the scars.”  Neil straightened up and looked at him in confusion that Andrew didn’t bother to clarify.  “Do you want a ride home?”  
  
“It’s just a couple of blocks.  It’ll take just as long to drive there as run it.”  
  
It was the politest possible rejection.  Andrew nodded and turned to leave when Neil called his name.  He looked back to see a grin so beautiful it should be outlawed splitting that perfect face.  
  
“Someone should give you some Viagra.”  
  
“What?” Andrew heard wrong, he must have.  He walked closer and peered up at him.  
  
“Haven’t you heard?  You give Viagra to a lawyer, and they just get taller.”  
  
The laugh barked out of Andrew before he could stop it.  Only this lunatic could manage to combine a short joke with a lawyer joke.  “Yeah, but if the effect lasts longer than four hours I have to call a doctor.”  
  
Neil’s laughter shifted him closer until Andrew could feel the heat off his body even through the sweatshirt and the rain.  He felt like he was going insane; when he had found that card in his pocket he had thought this guy would just be a pleasanter-than-usual way to get off.  Damnit.  Now he was…interested.  He didn’t want to be interested, didn’t have time for it and the clusterfuck of emotions that went with it, and Neil—well, he had no idea what Neil was thinking and that was dangerous.    
  
“I don’t really know how this works,” Neil said abruptly, and Andrew blinked his way back out of his thoughts.  
  
“How do you want it to work?”  
  
Neil shrugged for about the eightieth time during their conversation.  “I don’t know.  I mean, I like talking to you?”  
  
“Is that a question or a statement?”  
  
“Statement?”  
  
Andrew almost laughed again, which would have broken some sort of record and ruined his reputation.  Luckily he managed to control it.  “So do you want to do this again?”  
  
“Yeah.  Maybe real food though.”  He looked contemplative.  “Apparently I don’t eat enough.”  
  
“Okay.”  Andrew would wait to dissect that comment.  “I have a late seminar tomorrow, but I’ll text you.”  A minute later he was in his car, driving past the idiot who was jogging down the road, rain plastering his auburn hair down into a near-black skullcap.  He debated just going straight to Nicky’s but that bottle of Jack he’d picked up just to help him get through the dinner without committing homicide was sitting on his counter.  
  
Sir greeted him with a sleepy chirp from the pile of clothes on his bed.  Fatass had no doubt not even bothered to get up for the past couple hours.  Probably wouldn’t until Andrew got home and opened a can for him.  Bee and Nicky both had told him a pet would be a good companion.  He still had his doubts, especially when the feel of the obese monstrosity walking across the bed had him bolting upright in a near-panic, but he had to admit the purring and warmth quieted the nightmares.  
  
And even his garbage-raiding habit may have its benefits.  He pulled the card for the vet clinic out of his pocket, rubbing his thumb over the scrawled letters and numbers that marked the back.  Whether Neil was a benefit or a curse was still up for some debate.  Time would tell.    
  
Swearing under his breath at his stupidity, he swiped the bottle of Jack off the counter, called a useless good-bye to the lump of fur currently ruining his shirts, and headed off to torment his cousin.


End file.
